Timeless
by Anatomic
Summary: "You're gonna take Death's wish, Harry. You're gonna go back and change everything. For the people you love, in the past and the present. You're gonna go back there and save them, no matter the cost." Those words spoken by himself, to himself, Harry returns to the past in an attempt to set things right. Time Travel. One Shot.


**Summary:** "You're gonna take Death's wish, Harry. You're gonna go back and change everything. For the people you love, in the past and the present. You're gonna go back there and save them, no matter the cost." Those words spoken by himself, to himself, Harry returns to the past in an attempt to set things right.

**Warnings:** Time Travel, some language. I have no idea, it's 4 am. I am tired.

Enjoy reading.

* * *

It's of no surprise – when Harry found himself standing at a relatively clean King's Cross. Really, after what had happened, very little things could surprise him anymore. Although he expected death and empty darkness, however this... this was a nice change, he guessed. Harry wasn't surprised though, he didn't think himself capable of being surprised, after all his life had gone through.

So, when he was brought face to face, meeting his supposedly deceased headmaster, all Harry did was just stand there politely, expectantly awaiting the long due explanations. As the headmaster spoke what seemed to be a well practiced speech, Harry just stood there, listening in silence with his ever thinning patience. He couldn't help but feel no small amount of frustrating directed towards the old man – for leaving him so _in the dark_ about things, that he may as well have transformed into a void. Those horrible, annoying little-big secrets Dumbledore had kept from him.

He felt both ashamed and betrayed; for someone he looked ever so much up to, and for himself for being so gullible and naive. Emerald eyes, almost hidden behind foggy round-rimmed glasses, zoned out, not wishing to listen to anymore of the abundance of excuses the old man had racked up.

Breathing evenly and noiselessly from his nostrils whilst still full out ignoring the other man's speech, Harry attempted half heartedly to calm his racing heart. His chest was pumping from the pressure and adrenaline, the muscle restless within his ribcages, still full-pressed with the adrenaline acquired from his non-battle with Voldemort, or should he say Tom Riddle? Ah well, little difference.

The exercise proved slightly successful as he calmed down somewhat, however the flames in his heart flared yet again when reality came crashing down upon him. Once again his ears picked up on the dull drone of the professor's voice as he wondered about his rather...peculiar situation at hand.

Finally unable to keep wandering thoughts at bay any longer, Harry glanced up slowly and evenly, making eye contact with the older man. When said man fell silent, the raven-haired boy decidedly started speaking.

"Why?" he asked, a small tremor almost taking his voice. It was amazing how such a small word could contain so many emotions; too many.

Dumbledore's old, grey and bristly eyebrows furrowed in concentration or confusion, however it may have been both.

"I am afraid you'll have to be more specific, Harry." he replied in a light tone, attempting to make a joke out of the increasingly tension in the current predicament at hand.

Harry took his time in answering, shaking black, unruly locks from his eyes. He resisted the urge to say 'everything'. Clearing his throat in an audible swallow, Harry reworded his question in hopes of an answer.

"Why did you keep all...all _this_," he used his right hand to vaguely wave around his scar and then at King's Cross, "Why did you keep so many things – vital things for that matter, from me?"

His frustration must have shown on his face as Albus held his hands in front of chest in a placating manner.

"Calm down, Harry," he insisted, "you must know that I have had my reasons." He spoke patiently, as one would in an attempt to calm a frenzied hippogriff.

Scowling fiercely at Albus' non-answer, Harry weaved his hands through his hair before speaking again.

"Yes, but for what reasons, Albus!" he all but roared, and then lowering his voice venomously, he hissed "State them!" He was frustrated and all the headmaster did was add fuel to the flame. All pleasantries and decorum forgotten, Harry narrowed his currently dull-green eyes, rounding on the ancient headmaster. He felt as if every piece of his being were breaking apart.

Through many hardships, sacrifices and odds defied by him and his friends, through death, despair and torture... and he suddenly regretted it – regretted bottling up most of his mixed emotions – triumph, desperation, grief, betrayal... because suddenly it felt as if everything were crashing onto his shoulders, suddenly the weight of the world. Yes, he admitted to himself, at this current moment, he absolutely _loathed_ Albus Dumbledore.

When the headmaster remained silent still, Harry's mind went on digging for the bones. Searching, searching and searching for Albus' reasons and motivations. His first and foremost deduction was Albus' fear that he would 'back off' and not fulfil the prophecy, or if one of his friends and found out and attempted to stop the carefully planned events. He would've divulged into some deeper meanings but his mind allowed no more, settling firmly and stubbornly upon his first and currently only theory.

Huffing in annoyance, his nostrils flaring, Harry stared at the still silent Dumbledore for a long, hard minute.

"Could it be," he started, "That you were afraid of hesitation?"

Dumbledore sighed, looking almost twice as hold as his age before death, but nodded.

Harry tried go grimace however that action went without any real emotion. He increasingly felt sorry for the old man and a little guilty on his own part. Who was he to judge the hardships that Albus himself had faced? Albus, had bent his life and shaped into what it was now – like clay moulded into stone hard statue filled with many cracks along the way, however he did it out of good will, had he not? Ever the utilitarian, the ever so smart headmaster had made a decision and no matter how morally screwed up it was, it was a decision that worked. Harry briefly wondered if he was bi-polar, if just for how he ended up understanding and emphasizing with what Albus Dumbledore had done.

He had forgiven Albus because there was nothing else to do.

After all the rage and taxing emotions subsided, all Harry felt was exhaustion.

"What now?" Harry asked tiredly, feeling defeated, for all he was. He rubbed his scar in frustration. He looked towards Albus, looking mockingly expectant, waiting for older man to talk.

His ex-headmaster smiled awkwardly.

"Well, there are many choices," he began.

Harry nodded and made a vague hand gesture, indicating the man to go on.

"You could return to the battle situated currently in Hogwarts," Dumbledore stated, eyes sharp. When the older man caught sight of Harry's souring expression, he chuckled lightly.

"You truly wear your heart upon your sleeve, my boy." He said to the boy, stroking his rough beard.

The teenager just nodded impatiently. "...Or?" The Boy-Who-Lived prompted.

Sighing yet again, Albus squatted down on a pristine, white bench with a hunched back.

"The 'Or' choice...well, for that matter, you would have to have a chat with Death, discuss a few terms and conditions." Albus stated, most disapprovingly.

Harry's eyebrows almost rose to his hairline.

Exasperated, Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "You are the Master of Death now, Harry. You, unlike the many others, get to decide." Seeing another question about to pop out of the youth's mouth, the headmaster quickly continued, "However, what you could decide, I know not of. That matter lies with death and you, only."

"Then tell me, which paths do I take? I want to know, for both options. Which paths do I take, for either of the fates?"

Dumbledore pointed a crooked finger towards the entrance of where Harry had walked through.

"That path," he guided, "is the path for both choices. Walk through there, and your heart and mind will decide the rest."

Harry left no other words for the headmaster to say because as Albus Dumbledore had finished talking, the boy was already nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Harry counted the weeks and days he had left. He had asked for gold as back up, and received no small amount of it from Death. He had also been given the three Deathly Hallows – cloak, ring and Elder Wand. The gang's all there.

His deal with Death involved travelling back to the past, something Harry still hadn't gotten over at marvelling over. The unfortunate consequence to such a feat was the time limit. Now, Death didn't put it into specifics but it didn't need to, as Harry knew that the price to pay for changing the course of time too much was death.

Sighing, Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, willing away the growing headache as he tried to reorganize his thoughts.

Death had given him nine months, which was roughly three weeks. Harry suddenly felt extremely grateful for his notion of asking for gold before leaving the carriage and jumping into the past. He didn't know what he would have done if he had to spend a good amount of time working just to earn enough pay for whatever he was planning to do.

A rough plan formulated in his mind as Harry ran through his priorities. Voldemort was definitely at the top, along with the Horcruxes. Deciding that eliminating the Horcruxes were the best course of action, Harry set out listing down the locations and perils involved with each one.

Needless to say, Harry wasted no time to call for the ring from the past, and then absolutely eradicating it with a simple cast of fiendfyre – his current and only option for destroying horcruxes. Unfortunately whilst attempting to put the fire off, Harry now has a severe lack of eyebrows.

Deciding to prioritize from easiest to obtain to hardest, Harry then immediately teleported to where the real Salazar Slytherin's locket lay. It wasn't hard to retrieve at all, as he did not have the sword of Gryffindor along in tow and the pesky, desperate persuasions whispered from the locket were ignored outright as he cast the fiendfyre curse.

The fiendfyre curse was admittedly his biggest problem after that. Difficult and untameable, the fiendfyre was relentless and would have almost destroyed the whole landscape, if not for the power of the Elder wand, not to mention Harry's persistent spamming of _'finite incantatem'_.

Lips sore, body sore and generally everything sore, a victorious Harry barely managed to apparate outside the Leaky Cauldron before deciding for a cheaper, shadier and all in all less conspicuous alternative.

* * *

It wasn't difficult, to pick off the important Death Eaters off one by one. With his knowledge from the future, as cliché as it sounds, Harry made easy work with his invisibility cloak and elder wand. The only problem was to make it seem as if the deaths of the Death Eaters were either by accident, or provoked and not someone hunting them down. It wouldn't do good to raise Voldemort's already high paranoia to a new level. His targets were Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastian Lestrange along with Bartemius Crouch Jr.

Unfortunately, Harry's patch up job was less than stellar – throwing around _diffindo, confringo_ and the occasional Crucio... Merlin would hope that Voldemort would ignore the gaping evidence and just go under the assumption that the four killed themselves in a spat over his loyalty.

* * *

The solutions for the Horcruxes that were on a harder side to obtain, Harry sent out what he hoped to be urgent and subtle leads, directed especially towards Dumbledore, whom he was sure to have known about Voldemort and his Horcruxes. Hinting towards certain objects, Harry decided that he had done enough – any more leaking of information would make him a suspect and promote paranoia within the light side, if it already hadn't. He honestly didn't want to push his seemingly stretched luck.

* * *

The day came too fast, when Voldemort attacked the Potters. Barely managing to make it in time, Harry quickly barraged into the house, warned the Potter – his – family of the dark lord's arrival before demanding that they instantly apparate somewhere safe, before the anti-apparition wards were set up. They only nodded mutely before scurrying off.

After making sure they were gone, Harry himself attempted to apparate somewhere else. Sure, he felt the pulling sensation of his gravitational centre, however the teleportation never happened. Groaning in realization, Harry clenched his fist around his wand before turning around the corner and walking down stairs.

Before he could even react, he heard a masculine shout of

'_Avada Kedavra' _

And then blinding green light enveloped him.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, Harry winced at the amount of light before shutting his eyelids immediately after. When a hand shook his head, Harry groaned in annoyance before reopening his eyes again, pupils decreasing in size dramatically as the light filtered in.

Whatever complaint he was going to make were forgotten when he saw his mother in all her glory, looking worriedly down upon him. Red hair lay astray around her frame, reaching her shoulders to the top-mid of her back as similar green eyes peered over to him. She harboured a concerned frown.

Harry saw her open her mouth and say something, however whatever she was trying to say was muffled.  
Harry's eyebrows furrowed. "I can't hear you, mum." He muttered, using a hand to wipe the sleep from his eyes.

She looked shocked for a second, and cocked her head to the side, a sure sign that she did not comprehend what Harry had said.

Harry repeated himself, with crappily concealed annoyance. "I said, I can't hear you, mothe-"

His eyes widened as he stopped himself from mid sentence and swore.

"Son of a bitch!"

Wriggling out of his would-be mother's hold, Harry instantly got up and made a run for it, ignoring the protests and yells from Lily Potter. Running in no particular direction, just so he could get away, Harry turned sprinted around a secluded corner and quickly apparated back to his poorly kept living quarters located in that shady wizarding hostel.

Tomorrow, Harry decided. Tomorrow, he would go back to King's Cross station.

* * *

Staring longingly at the rowdy family, Harry felt his arm almost reach out for them, in the height of both want and need. He would believe that they were his; as it turned out, this was time travel, which is very much unlike dimensional travel, however, his reasoning was objected as a part of his mind very much denied the fact, arguing, for the fact that considering the current situation; the many changes he had inflicted upon this word; whether in the result of good, or bad; it was change none the less. Although, not just any change; colossal change that involved many lives being returned, therefore would count as technically an alternate universe, no? By desperation, he had not accounted for the changes, and how those would affect the timeline.

His gut clenched. So in the end, they were his, yet not? How intriguing. Unwilling to dwell on such morbid thoughts, Harry gathered himself up and apparated in a distant corner near King's Cross, before striding towards his destination.

It was time to face his penance.

* * *

"Going so soon, Harry?"

Those words spoke in light, sweet tones yet...hearing the familiar voice, Harry immediately spun around, wide-eyed in shock. He hoped for something else, someone else; anything but her; oh Merlin, please, no. When his eyes were met with a now familiar figure of hair as beautiful as the autumn sunset, and eyes as beautiful as pure, green woods, he was suddenly reminded of the ominous words Death had presented to him before departure.

Not missing a beat, he retorted with a harsh, urgent whisper. "How did you know, find out?" he hissed in worry, unable to stop the shaking and hitching of his voice; stilted by emotion.

"You aren't the most subtle person."

Harry just groaned before smiling wanly, eyes slightly bitter.

Lily smiled back softly at Harry, her Harry, she reminded herself. Her smile was supple yet melancholic, an expression that only amplified through her bright green eyes. They were clear-cut, yet filled with unshed tears, the salty waters still glistening within.

It was amazing, heartbreaking, in fact, how such a simple thing as eye contact can break a mother and her never-to-be-son.

Unable to stop the sudden overflow of tears, Harry cried into his mother's chest, releasing all the emotions enclosed within him, not bothering with appearances or restraint. However Lily, too, had many tears roll down her clean-tone skin, a sad, shaky smile still plastered on her face, as she held the son she never had; and never could have, within her arms. No words were exchanged within the precious moment, just emotions. Steadying his voice, Harry whispered 'Mum, mother...my mother, looking at her with grieving, disbelieving blue eyes.

"My son," she whispered back, brushing the hair away from his eyes, and were met with a familiar green, one that she sees every time she brushes by a shiny surface, or a mirror. She hugged him closer, the action going without objection from the opposite party, and she couldn't help but let loose more tears that had threatened to flow freely from her already red-skinned-eyes. It was a brief moment, though a moment that broke both hearts, as thoughts and minds wandered; wishing for a different ending, a desperate hope for something else.

"You...," Lily started, however her breath hitched as her voice still seemed rather unstable. "You," she repeated, "really have to go back, don't you?" Throughout those words, she was still stroking her Harry's hair, black as the night.

Through his tears, Harry didn't have the heart to tell her that 'go back' meant to his death, and not to his era. The beating, bloody pulp in his chest was already broken and trudged on mercilessly by Fate, Luck and their dastardly minds.

With two last, sorrowful goodbyes, Harry and Lily let go in slow unison. Unable to work out any words, Harry gave a stiff nod and an equally stiff smile to his mother before padding down his clothes and heading to the train.

When Harry turned around and as the compartment's doors slid shut, it was the first dreamless sleep he ever had.

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

The sun was shining bright and the sky coloured a clear, beautiful blue with puffy white clouds. Choots of trains could be heard from almost all directions, echoes bouncing off the brick walls. A little boy with beautiful yet messy black hair and crystalline green eyes ran towards his mother, Lily Potter, a huffing and puffing yet smiling James Potter followed the suit.

"Mummy, mummy!" the little boy yelled, jumping into her arms. After snuggling comfortingly against her bosom, he looked up at her with wide, curious eyes.

"Who was that man?" It was said in such a soft whisper, filled with curiosity that even Lily, being so physically close to him, barely managed to catch. She froze for a few seconds, staring wide-eyed at her toddler-child. She spied a glance at her husband, who was currently over at a Daily Prophet newspaper stand, looking distastefully at the extreme bias the papers contained, although he did look slightly conflicted - the defeat of the Dark Lord (although thought to be temporary) by an unnamed stranger. Smiling briefly at her husband's antics, Lily quickly turned back towards her son.

Lily opened and closed her mouth, biting her bottom lip softly before she answered her son.

"He...he was...a hero." She barely manages to murmur, her voice catching slightly, however thankfully her son didn't notice. Harry Potter just nodded sleepily, eyes half lidded and snuggled into her chest once more.

"I love you, mummy," she heard him say before her little baby dozed off in her arms.

Smiling down sadly, Lily brushed her nose against her child's soft, black hair as she cuddled him. Looking around, her eyes strayed to the station where the Harry-she-wouldn't-have had taken off. Seeing nothing but phantasm smokes leftover from the train Harry departed on, Lily couldn't but shut her eyes briefly to the ache bubbling inside her chest.

She didn't know what she expected, when she had looked upon the station again, although she knew what she wanted.

'_Harry...my son.'_ She thought, still staring longingly into empty nothingness of the station. Hugging the Harry in her arms tighter, she bowed her head low in remembrance. _'...Thank you.'_


End file.
